In Real Life
by tiger-kitty-367
Summary: Everybody reads fanfiction. Everybody writes it. But what would the characters themselves say, if they could read it? How would Harry, Hermione, Ron and the rest of our beloved wizards say? Humorous.
1. Harry, Ron, and Hermione

Hermione smiled as she read the words on the screen of her laptop. She was in the middle of yet another online Harry Potter fanfic, and this one was more hilarious than most. Barely able to contain her mirth, Hermione turned in her swivel chair to look at Harry and Ron, who were sitting on her bed.

"Oh my god Harry, you have to look at this." Hermione glanced quickly at the screen and tried to suppress another snort.

Harry looked up tiredly from the magazine he was reading. "Who am I shagging senseless this time Herm? You, Draco, Ron, or all three?"

Hermione shook her head. "Wrong on all counts. Ready?"

Harry nodded, visibly steeling himself for the news. "Ready," he said through gritted teeth.

"Snape!" Unable to contain herself any longer, Hermione fell to the floor in a fit of giggles. Harry just looked sick.

"Snape? Why, of all people, would I want to shag Snape? Why would anybody?" Harry looked back to his magazine in disgust. "Seriously, makes me want to Memory Charm the whole Muggle population," he muttered darkly, trying to focus on his article.

Hermione grabbed at her swivel chair and pulled herself up to a sitting position. "It is amusing..." she began, her smile reaching from ear to ear.

"Till it happens to you," said Ron, opening his eyes. He'd been laying on her bed, listening to some CD's. After two months at Hermione's house, Ron had gotten quite used to "Muggle Magic", as he called it. "Remember all those we've found about you and Malfoy?" Ron shuddered, recalling the horrors he'd read. "I thought my mind would never be clean again. I mean, you and Malfoy. Ughh."

Hermione stopped mid laugh. "Yeah..." she said, trailing off. "Pretty nasty stuff. And why is it always me?"

Harry looked up again. "What? Always you? Excuse me, but I think I'm the one that seems to be discovering original sin on a daily basis here."

Hermione sat up straighter. "And what about me? At least they put you in a decent light-"

"Most of the time," interrupted Harry.

"-and don't warp you to where you're unrecognizable. You're still Harry Potter. Me, I'm usually some seductress that has 'grown up over the summer holidays'. Either that, or they just take my name and my relationship with you two and then tweak me this way and that. I don't see a bit of me in there anywhere!"

Ron yawned. "You're both wrong. Harry, Herm gets just as much attention as you do because it's easier to write about her snogging Malfoy senseless. Easier on the stomach." Ron stretched like a cat and sat up, turning the CD player off. "And as to you Herm, Harry's person is tweaked just as much as yours is. Half the time he has the hots for Malfoy or me, and the other half he's this noble, self-sacrificing, Harry Potter that's clueless about everything."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then back at Ron. "He has a point," said Hermione, shrugging and getting up.

Harry nodded. "Whatever." Then he laughed in spite of himself. "Still, what they do to us is nothing compared with what they do to them. I mean really. Snape, sensitive? And Malfoy giving a damn about somebody besides himself? You have to hand it to the Muggles, they really are a creative lot."

Hermione smiled. "That's right. Makes me proud to be one." Then she glanced back at the computer screen and smiled even wider. "Mostly."


	2. In Dumbledore's Office

Snape paced across the floor of Dumbledore's office. His face was set in a deep scowl that was half fury, half disgust. He stopped in his pacing a minute to slam his fist down on Dumbledore's desk.

"I demand we do something!" he thundered, his expression black. "I've been getting owls from the concerned families of students. They all seem to think 'where there's smoke, there's fire'. This is wreaking havoc on my relations with my students."

Dumbledore looked up from the printed copy of a fanfic he was reading. This one was an especially graphic one, involving an inappropriate infatuation between Snape and Cho Chang. "Well Severus, I really don't see what we can do. The Muggles are fascinated with our world, even though they believe it to be purely fictional."

Snape groaned and started to pace again. "Why did the Ministry have to hire that Muggle woman? Why did our lives have to be made public!?"

"You know why," said Dumbledore gravely, leaning forward. "The Muggle population is as much at risk from Voldemort's attacks as we are. Even if they don't believe Rowling, which was our intention, the idea has been rooted in their subconscious. This way, if our world is ever exposed, as it is dangerously close to being at any moment, they will be able to help in the fight."

"Or at least not get in the way," muttered Snape darkly. "I still do not see how this gives them the right to pervert this school."

"I agree." Dumbledore rose and put a hand on Snape's shoulder. "Do not worry Severus. Perhaps a formal letter to the parents of the students attending Hogwarts will set their minds at ease."

Snape thought for a moment, then nodded. "Maybe. But we must do it before these-"he waved a hand at the stack of fanfics on Dumbeldore's desk, "- get any more out of hand."

Dumbledore watched as Snape stalked out of his office, his black cloak billowing dramatically behind him. The door closed with a heavy click behind him, just barely missing catching the end of Snape's cloak.

"I daresay that would've interrupted Severus's dramatic exit a bit," said Dumbledore with a smile, petting Fawkes, who had just alighted on his shoulder. "He always did have a taste for drama."

Sighing, Dumbledore walked back to his desk and sat down. "At least there is no such fiction about me," he said to the phoenix. Fawkes gave a squak of agreement and flew back to his perch. Like any normal bird, Fawkes was terribly fond of his feathers and applied himself with a passion to preening and cleaning his gorgeous plumage.

Dumbledore finished the Snape/Cho fic he'd been reading and moved on the next one. His supplier was Hermione Granger, whom he'd asked to keep him updated on the goings-on of the fanfictional world. Dumbledore was in the middle of unwrapping a Tootsie Roll when he read the title of the next fic.

"'Albus and Minerva's Secret'," he read, dropping the Tootsie Roll in surprise.

Within the next five minutes, Dumbledore read what would be one of the most disturbing things he'd ever have to see in his life. Dumbledore cleared him suddenly dry throat and turned to Fawkes, who was looking at him curiously. "Apparently, Professor McGonogall and I are having an affair." He glanced back at the fic and swallowed. "And I am her long-lost uncle."

Fawkes gave an indignant squak and burst into flames. It wasn't his time of the month but whenever the bird was severely upset, he could mimic the process quite well.

With a serious expression, Dumbledore sat down and wrote the letter that would be sent to all Hogwarts parents. After, he fireballed the offending fic concerning himself and the head of Gryffindor house.


	3. Malfoy Manor

Chapter 3: In Real Life- Malfoy Manor

Draco Malfoy sat on the edge of the large leather chair, his whole body tense. Lucius Malfoy was reclined in front of him, behind his gigantic mahogany desk, trying very hard to look enigmatic and forbidding. Draco thought he succeeded at looking like a big stupid lemur, but then again, he was feeling charitable.

"I have received a very interesting letter from that old fool, Dumbledore, Draco. It was referring to the onslaught of scandalous fanfiction being written about that Muggle-loving institution," said Lucius.

Draco kept his face completely blank as his thoughts sped on furiously. _Why would he call me in here to tell me this? Smarmy git thinks he can call me up any time and I'll answer like a dog... oooh, just you wait.... _Draco bore no great love for his father, and likewise, Lucius Malfoy only saw his son as something to be used, not loved. However, their system worked for them, so neither one was inclined to try to change things.

"I also want you to know," continued Lucius, "that we are using the Muggles quite efficiently in undermining Dumbledore's cause." Lucius sighed dramatically. "It shames me to know just how many wizards nowadays are actually keeping up with the Muggle's magic, their 'computers' and 'internet' things... but it's usefully to us, and the Dark Lord has already ordered the Inner Circle to begin their training." Lucius paused for effect and leaned back. "How are you coming along?"

Lucius had forced Draco to learn how to use a Muggle computer and bought him a laptop. Draco had rebelled violently at learning how to use anything the least bit Muggle-related, and this was about as bad as it could get. Having known this, Lucius made Draco spend hours in his room alone with his laptop and the internet. However, despite himself, Draco had soon found himself at ease with the laptop (oh, the horror) and actually enjoying surfing the net (say it isn't so!), but he couldn't let on that he was happy to do what he was being forced to do. That wouldn't suit Lucius at all, and knowing his father, the bastard would probably invent some new torture for him.

"I despise it," said Draco, wrinkling his nose in disdain. Inwardly however, he felt impatient to get back to the chat rooms. One met the most interesting people there... "It is far beneath me, so it shouldn't surprise anyone that I've already mastered it."

Lucius's smile toothily, a sight so horrible Draco was forced to stare past his father's face and at the dark rows of books on the bookshelf behind Lucius. "Excellent. You can now begin to act as a scout. From now on, when you go 'online', you will look for fiction that is helpful to our cause and write down its location."

Draco nodded, looking bored. _Silly git, the smarmy sot... I'll show you scout... ass. _"Yes father."

Lucius nodded and leaned back into his chair sinisterly. "You may go."

Draco got up noiselessly and stalked gracefully out of the room. Although he'd never admit to it (and he'd Avada Kedavra anyone who found out), Draco was so graceful because he'd taken ballet as a child, at his mother's insistence. And still did. _Damn... I missed my class... I swear, Lucius will pay for this... _With such dark thoughts, Draco walked into his rooms, slammed the heavy double doors, and lay down in front of the bright screen of his computer, which he'd left oh his bed.

Unbeknownst to his father, Draco had been reading through the world of fanfiction for weeks now, and he knew his way around quite well. As Draco scrolled through the lists of fanfiction newly posted, a ghostly head popped up at his through the heavy fabric of his bedspread.

"Nick," said Draco, unperturbed, not even taking his eyes of the screen. "If you want to scare me, you'll have to try something a bit more original."

Nick winked and drifted up until he was completely free of Draco's bed. Then he floated back down so that he looked as if he were sitting cross-legged in the air beside Draco.He leaned in the air to look over Draco's shoulder. "Reading again I see. Anything new?"

Draco shrugged. Nick was the ghost of one of his great, great, great, grand cousins, long deceased. Nick in particular had had an extremely interesting life and death, and he'd died very young (around Draco's age), so he made the perfect companion for Draco. Although he'd been dead for a long time, Nick had managed to keep up with the times and he'd taken a lot of interest in Draco's forays into the world of fanfiction.

"Same old, same old," said Draco. "In some I'm still madly shagging Potter in every available broom closet."

Nick snickered loudly, rolling slightly from side to side. "Oh god... it's too much. You and the Boy Who Wouldn't Die?" Nick shook his head, smiling widely. "Obviously, the writers of the things had never seen you on Saturday nights and the pub, ladies falling over themselves to get to you."

Draco smirked, his chest swelling. His "exploits" with the local girls had given him a reputation he was happy to uphold. It was a real... labor of love, as he'd heard his mother say once. "Yeah, well, at least it isn't Weasley."

Draco and Nick looked at each other and shivered. "Except for that one last week..." they said simultaneously.

"In other news, I making mad, passionate love to Granger every Monday and Thursday, while cheating on her with the Weasley girl every Tuesday and Wednesday night."

Nick cocked one ghostly eyebrow. "And whatever happened to Friday, Saturday, and Sunday?"

Draco flashed a cocky smirk. "Those are for the rest of the Hogwarts female population."

Nick yawned and rolled backwards in the air as he leaned back. "Well, at least these people are getting the right picture. Although they do seem to enjoy exaggerating..."

Draco scoffed. "Really Nick. That hurt. These people are perfectly credible, although I _would_ like to know where they're getting their information from. They _are_ Muggles, after all."

Nick smiled and nodded sarcastically. "Right. Sure." Then, he looked back at the screen and pointed. "Hey, this looks original... click it."

Draco scrolled down and clicked the link Nick had pointed to. In the next few minutes, silence reigned as Draco and Nick read what could only be the product of a severely disturbed mind.

"Well," said Nick, trying to clear his throat and getting nowhere, being a ghost and all. "That was certainly... creative..." A small laugh escaped him despite his care.

Draco glared at his see-through companion. "Shut up."

Nick laughed openly, his shoulders shaking. "I doubt," he said in between gasps," I doubt Snape would call you his 'little black butterfly' though." Glancing around, Nick grabbed a pair of Draco's ballet tights that had been left out by some careless house-elf and flew around the room, the tights trailing behind him. "Look at me! I'm a butterfly... so _pretty_!"

Draco shuddered and closed the laptop with a snap. "Shut up," he told Nick, his glare more automatic by now than anything else. "Anyway, that's quite enough for today... I may never surf the net again."

Nick stopped zooming around and patted Draco on the back, making Draco shiver from the cold. "Don't worry mate. Not like it's real... right?"

Draco snarled at this last tease and glared at Nick. "If you weren't already dead, I'd kill you." Noticing his tights still in Nick's clutches, Draco snatched them back quickly. "You breath a word of this to anyone, and I _will_ find a way to kill you."

"But you can't," said Nick, smug.

Draco shrugged. "Who knows? I might just raise a basilisk so that I can sic it on you." Draco paused thoughtfully. "Maybe I can get it to eat Lucius too..."

Laughing, Nick sank through Draco's floor. "Hopefully. Last one to the kitchen is flobberworm slime," he said before disappeared from view.

"Idiot," said Draco fondly as he got up and headed down to the kitchens himself.


	4. Poor Seamus

Chapter 4: In Real Life- Seamus Finnigan's House

"Mum, dad, for the last _time_. I. Am. NOT. GAY."

The Finnigans were a quiet and respectable family, and they loved their son very much. Of course, when a distant cousin had told them that Seamus was gay, they'd been concerned. And just as naturally, they wanted to do what was best for him. Where this information had come from, and whether it was reliable, did not cross either adult's mind.

So before he knew it, Seamus found himself sitting in his living room, encouragement and acceptance he did not need or want thrust upon him.

His dad smiled lovingly.

"Seamus, we completely support in your lifestyle choices. And you don't have to tell us anything. We still love you son," he finished, with tears in his eyes.

Seamus felt his frazzled self-control give a little more. The end was near. "Dad, I swear, I am NOT gay. Really."

Seamus's mom choked a sob, her teary eyes gazing at her son fondly. "Oh Seamus, we just want you to be happy. And love can come in many forms." She turned to Seamus's father, who was wearing a similarly sickening expression of understanding and acceptance. "Tell him darling."

Seamus began to rise from the chinz chair he had been imprisoned in for the last hour as he tried to reason with his parents. "Tell me _what?_"

Seamus's father beamed. "We will always have a place for you here Seamus, and any of your _lovers._ Just give us prior warning so that we can set up a bedroom for you two."

Seamus stood deathly still for a moment. His broad Irish shoulders shook with the effort of his self-control. It didn't last. "You idiots!" he screamed at his hopeless parents and stormed from the room.

When he was finally safe in his room, he locked the door and sank onto his bed, exhausted. Arguing about one's sexuality with one's parents was trying enough... having them NOT believe you when you said you weren't a homosexual was worse. Not that Seamus had anything against gay people. He just wasn't one. "Is it so wrong not to want to be gay?" he muttered moodily as he switched on his laptop. He glared at it as it started up. "This. Is all your fault!" He pointed accusingly at the screen.

"You... you and your stupid fanfiction. Why is Seamus always gay? Why is it always the Irishman?" He shook his head. "Bloody racism, that's what it is. Stupid Muggles, with their oversexed imaginings." He cast a dark glance at his locked door. "And stupid parents, with 'well-meaning' friends of the family!"


End file.
